


I Can Still Feel You

by PaxieAmor



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, You May Want a Box of Tissues, spoilers for the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your Memory's Like a Ghost...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Still Feel You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "[I Can Still Feel You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvReRQE9Yzk)" by Collin Raye, a song that occasionally finds its way into my head, and [this animation](http://flatbear.tumblr.com/post/20662196309/hah) by the lovely [flatbear](flatbear.tumblr.com)

For Clint Barton, music was often a source of comfort. Today, however, no song would bring him the comfort he needed. The song he had been hearing in his thoughts was no different.

_It’s that feeling that someone_

_Is standing behind me_

Phil Coulson, _his_ Phil Coulson was dead… and no matter how he tried, Clint couldn’t think of anything he could have done to change that; he had been under Loki’s power at the time, he had been doing as he was ordered… there was nothing he could have done differently. He could only take solace in the fact that he himself hadn’t been the one to kill the man he loved. As much as that did help, knowing Phil hadn’t been one of the innocents Clint had killed, it didn’t stop him from feeling empty and alone.

It didn’t stop him from thinking he saw Phil everywhere he went, from feeling his lover’s arms around his waist.

_And I turn around and there’s no one there…_

It took him almost a _month_ before he could even set foot in the small apartment that he and Phil shared, another week or so after that before he was able to stay overnight. Even then, he couldn’t sleep in their bed, opting instead to sleep out on the sofa in their living room. Today, almost five months later, he was looking through Phil’s things; he didn’t plan to get rid of anything, only to look through.

_And it's the sensation_

_That someone just whispered_

_Yeah and I still hear your voice_

That’s when he came across a shoebox in the closet. His name written on the lid in purple sharpie; just looking at it was enough to make him hear Phil saying his name…

_But you're not really here…_

Clint opened the box and felt his heart sink. The box wasn’t _for_ him; its contents were things he’d given to Phil in one way or another, things Clint never thought Phil would have kept.

The arrow Clint used to shoot a note into Phil’s office, asking him on their first date. The note, which was also in the box, had simply read “Dinner tonight? My place? Bring beer. Also food. <3” Clint hadn’t actually expected him to say yes.

A pink heart keychain Clint had found in a shop somewhere, embossed with the words “I *image of Cap’s Shield* Captain America”.

A napkin from the restaurant Clint had taken Phil to as a surprise for their first anniversary.

_Your memory’s like a ghost_

There were a few other items in the box, but none held Clint’s attention like that napkin. The night had been, for lack of a better word, _terrible_. The reservations Clint had made _two months_ in advance had somehow been lost; when they finally got a table, two hours later, the waiter spilled an entire plate of chicken parmigiana on Phil; Clint’s steak was burnt to a crisp and the potatoes were raw. It was likely the worst first anniversary in the history of first anniversaries, yet Phil still kept that napkin.

That had been just before they went to New Mexico, before Clint as assigned to keep an eye on Dr. Selvig and his work with the Tesseract. Their first anniversary had been the last date they’d ever have, the last time Clint had sat down with his lover and had dinner…

_And my heart is its host…_

Clint carefully put the napkin back inside the shoebox, replaced the lid and returned the entire thing to where he had found it. He walked out of the closet, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked over to the bed he and Phil had shared, just staring at it for a moment. He could almost feel Phil’s arms around him, the warmth of his breath against his neck…

_I can still feel you just as close as skin_

_Every now and then_

But it wasn’t real, he reminded himself as he fell forward onto the bed. He hugged Phil’s pillow close to him, breathing in what was left of his lover’s scent, the scent he would never smell again.

_All by myself_

_In a crowded room_

_Or my empty bed_

Clint had yet to cry for his loss. He kept it together for his team, for Natasha who knew him better than most but not well enough to see how completely destroyed he was now this his handler, his lover, his _man_ was gone.

_There’s a place you’ve touched with your love no one gets close to…_

He cried now, though; silent and sorrowful at first, but it soon built to loud, bitter rage. He cried until he couldn’t breathe, until the pillow in his embrace was wet with tears, until his throat was sore from it all…

_I can still feel you…_

“I miss you,” he whispered.


End file.
